


14. Comfort

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Series: Twinkstober 2020 [14]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friendship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, Serious Injuries, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: Twinkstober 2020Prompt: comfortSome things are inevitable.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Twinkstober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923553
Comments: 14
Kudos: 200





	14. Comfort

Some days with Geralt are relatively easy, considering the man's profession. He dispatches the monster, Jaskier writes a stirring ballad about it, and they travel on.

On other days, things turn to shit really fucking quickly, and mostly Geralt ends up with some minor to medium injury.

And then there's the ones that are definitely Jaskier's least favourite. The ones where Geralt just barely makes it out alive, bleeding all over himself and Jaskier, where it's really just sheer dumb luck that he doesn't die.

Jaskier really, _really_ hates those.

It's another one of those, and Jaskier is too full of panic and adrenaline for his hands to shake or for his tears to spill over as he removes Geralt's armour as quickly as he can. There's a long, deep gash, all along his left side, and bile rises in his throat. He swallows it down harshly and gets to work.

After all the years spent on the Path with Geralt, he knows his way around the man's potions and salves, knows which wounds will need stitches and which ones are fine without.

This one needs stitches, more than Jaskier cares to count.

When he's finally, finally done, his hands are covered in Geralt's blood up to the wrist. The metallic stench of it is everywhere, in his nose, coating his tongue. Again, his stomach turns, but he _can't_ , he still has to get Geralt comfortable, has to keep him warm, has to clean his hands.

Geralt lays there, pale as death and his breathing barely discernible, and when Jaskier has washed the blood off his hands, he sits cross legged by his head, places a gentle palm on his forehead, and lets himself cry.

When the Witcher wakes again, shortly before sundown, Jaskier's eyes are dry. "Welcome back," he says, and Geralt looks up at him wearily. "I take it things didn't go according to plan, then?"

Geralt grunts in reply, then grimaces. "Three griffins, not one."

"Ah. That explains it." He presses his lips together in anger. "They could've told you _that_ unimportant tidbit before sending you off." Geralt grunts again and closes his eyes. Jaskier watches him in silence for a moment, then asks quietly, "What... If you don't... make it back some day- What am I supposed to do then?"

The Witcher hums. "When I die on the Path, you'll get the fuck as far away as you can. It'll be unsafe for you."

 _When_. Not _if_.

Jaskier bites his lip hard for a second. "What about your... your body?"

"It'll feed something."

There's a stone in the pit of Jaskier's stomach, a fat, heavy thing, and it makes its way up his throat, and he scrambles away from Geralt on hands and knees, as fast as he can manage with his head spinning and saliva dripping from his mouth, and then he throws up into the grass. He's dimly aware of Geralt saying his name but he's too busy puking his guts out, tears streaming down his cheeks as he digs his fingers into the damp earth.

_When. **When** I die._

The thing is, Jaskier knows this is not just a possibility but something that is highly likely. It just doesn't usually hit him this hard, not when they're on the road and things are going fine, but now, when he can still smell Geralt's blood, it's like it all comes crashing down on him.

There's nothing left for him to throw up except bile, but he can't stop, and he starts crying in earnest in between continued heaving. Then there's a hand between his shoulder blades, and he sobs.

"Jaskier," Geralt says, voice gentle, "what's wrong?"

"You-" He gasps and dry-heaves again. "You can't- You can't just _say_ things like that!" He's still sobbing, his face a mess of tears and snot and saliva, and Geralt's hand stills where it had been rubbing soothingly at his back.

Jaskier sits up, and Geralt's hand falls away. He scrubs at his face with a wide sleeve, and then looks up at Geralt. The Witcher still looks like shit, far too pale even for him and a grim set to his mouth that speaks of pain, but the look in his eyes is even worse.

This time it were Jaskier's words that hurt him, not the claws of some monster, and Jaskier instantly feels like the worst person alive. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

Geralt shakes his head. "I forget sometimes," he murmurs, "that this isn't..." He struggles for words for a moment, then says, "normal for you."

Jaskier sits there, stunned.

"I'm not fearless," Geralt continues, looking at Jaskier's knees in the grass. "I'm afraid of dying, just like everyone else, but I accepted that I'll almost certainly die alone and in pain. That's what being a Witcher means nine times out of ten."

"I know that," Jaskier says, his hands fisted in the fabric of his breeches. "I _know_ , Geralt, I'm not stupid or oblivious, or even too much of a romantic to think that. I just- I need to know what to do if- when it happens."

Geralt looks up at him then, and his gaze softens. Jaskier wants to cry all over again. "Like I said, you get away." He reaches up then, winces as the motion pulls at his wound. His palm cups Jaskier's cheek. "You need to be safe, Jask. Don't worry about me."

There goes his barely existing composure, and fat tears start rolling down his cheeks again. "I _always_ worry about you," he says, despondent, and Geralt strokes a thumb over his cheek, brushes away the tears.

"I know," he says gently, and Jaskier sniffles. "And I worry about you. I need to know you're looking out for yourself, Jaskier."

"Only if you promise to do the same," he murmurs, and Geralt's lips twitch into a small smile.

They settle down on their bedrolls soon after. It's not cold enough that they need to share warmth, but Jaskier moves close regardless, and Geralt lifts his arm and lets him hide his face against Geralt's chest. Doesn't object when Jaskier curls his hands into the soft fabric of his shirt.

Jaskier thought he knew what he signed up for, back when he followed Geralt into Dol Blathanna all those years ago. Death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak - it had all sounded so riveting to him back then. Gods, how young and _stupid_ he'd been.

The fire cracks behind him, and his hands tighten in Geralt's shirt. "I don't- I don't want to lose you," he says softly into the space between them, and Geralt's fingers press into his back gently. "I don't know what I'd do."

"You'll carry on," Geralt says against the crown of his head, his breath warm. "I don't want you to let mourning me get in the way of your life."

 _But this is my life,_ Jaskier thinks, and from the way Geralt's arms tightens around him, he's certain the Witcher knows that.

"Go to sleep, Jaskier," Geralt rumbles after a moment where Jaskier feels his eyes water yet again, and he knows it's just his way of avoiding the subject. He kind of wants to continue, wants to argue, but... He's exhausted. Weary.

And so he burrows deeper into Geralt's embrace, and lets the man's slow heartbeat under his cheek lull him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> Come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/formerly_as_g?s=09)!


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